


Salvation Can Come in All Shapes (and Sizes)

by what_am_i_even_doing_tho



Series: An Unexpected Meeting [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dreams, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Thorin Oakenshield is unashamedly enamored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25572760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_am_i_even_doing_tho/pseuds/what_am_i_even_doing_tho
Summary: Thorin has a dream. A very odd dream. Involving Hobbits, dragons and sparkly, rainbow crosses. It's symbolic, okay?
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: An Unexpected Meeting [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846132
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Salvation Can Come in All Shapes (and Sizes)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had originally planned to write this whole series from Bilbo’s POV, but I got this silly, stupid idea and couldn’t resist writing it. I may write more of Thorin in the future if I get any ideas, but it would probably be little things like this.
> 
> Just for reference, this takes place the same day that Bilbo comforts Thorin in the previous part, after Thorin's gone home for the night. It doesn’t further the plot in the slightest; it’s just a fun little bonus.

The sky above was black as night, dark thunderheads covering the field like a blanket of despair and effectively blotting out the midday sun. A ferocious wind howled, churning the thick clouds of smoke and ash that were threatening to suffocate him. In the distance, he could hear screaming, for help or the end he could not tell, and all around him lay the bodies of his fallen comrades. Rivers of blood ran through the land, soaking the ground and causing him to slip and fall when he took a cautious step forward. He looked up at his foe and raised his sword in defense, and from his position on the ground, he realized that this was it; he had failed.

The beast looming over him snarled, scaly mouth curling into a satisfied grin. Hatred and amusement flickered in its great golden eyes, and a cruel, booming laugh that shook the earth and rattled his bones escaped its massive lungs. The vile dragon Smaug was pleased with itself for bringing down its greatest enemy. No army of Men, Dwarves, or Elves could stop it, no flimsy iron sword kill it, and now the time had come for it to kill the last Dwarven king. Lifting one enormous paw, it brought it down with breakneck speed, about to deliver the devastating final blow that would rid the world of Thorin Oakenshield once and for all.

Out of nowhere, a small figure jumped in front of Thorin, shielding the king with his body, and when he recognized who it was, his heart stooped. He tried to scream, to beg the other to leave, but he couldn’t make a sound no matter how hard he tried. The red dragon’s paw hadn’t stopped its descent, and he knew they were both going to die. Thorin closed his eyes and waited for the end, but to his shock, nothing happened. There was no blinding pain, no crunching and crushing of bones. His body remained whole, unbroken, and he even started to feel a gentle warmth enveloping him.

Thorin opened his eyes, more than a little confused, and the first thing he saw was that the sun had broken through. Now a beautiful cerulean blue, the sky no longer held a single cloud, and the king looked on in wonder as the scene before him started to change. The previously barren and blood-soaked ground began to bloom with life, lush grass and dainty wildflowers of all colors spreading out in every direction, as far as the eye could see, and if he listened closely, he could hear a small brook nearby, babbling playfully. The bodies of his brothers-in-arms had been given life once again, and they stood behind him, smiling gleefully, their exclamations of triumph echoing across the land. The most startling sight, however, was what lay in front of him.

His beloved Hobbit stood before him, feet planted firmly on the ground and arms stretched out. Bilbo’s curly, honey-colored hair ruffled in the gentle breeze, and he had his head held high, staring down the great dragon without a hint of fear. In one hand he held a glittering, shining object, the shape of which Thorin could not quite make out, and after looking over his shoulder to flash the king a rather dashing grin, Bilbo thrust the object forward. 

With a shout, he cried, “The power of gay compels you, you foul demon!” With those words, the object shone even brighter, the light coming off of it blinding, rivaling that of the sun. The dragon, who had frozen in shock, recoiled instantly, tucking its humongous tail between its legs and whimpering, a pathetic plea for mercy on its wicked tongue. Bilbo merely shook his head disapprovingly, and the beast, fearing for its life, spread its giant wings and took off, flying faster than any creature before. Another cheer went up in the crowd, for the enemy had been vanquished at last, and Thorin joined in with delight.

Bilbo turned around to face him, dazzling smile still in place, and the world around them dropped into silence. Thorin looked at Bilbo, Bilbo looked at Thorin, and there was nothing else but them. Seeing Bilbo like this, so happy, so carefree, it made his heart soar and melt all the same time. He felt his hard exterior softening, as it always did when he gazed upon his beautiful consort. This Hobbit held Thorin’s heart in his hands, and maybe that thought would’ve scared him not so long ago, but the king found that he couldn’t be happier. He belonged to Bilbo, and only Bilbo, and that was as it should be.

With a smile of his own, Thorin thanked his short lover for saving him and his men, and with a blush that only highlighted his splendor, Bilbo nodded. The object that had scared away the dragon, which Thorin could now see was a small, sparkling cross of every color of the rainbow, was pocketed, and Bilbo reached out for the king. More than happy to do so, he took the smaller hand into his own, and together they walked through the field of flowers, happy in the presence of the other…

Thorin awoke with a small snort, groaning as the pounding in his head made itself known. Lifting his head up from where it rested on his arms, he looked around the table, blinking blearily at the several empty beer bottles scattered across its surface. Noticing that one still had a little bit left, he reached for it sluggishly. Taking ahold and bringing it to his lips, he was about to down the last of it when he remembered the dream. It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed about Bilbo, but since when did he dream of dragons and sparkly, rainbow crosses? Eyes wide, he examined the bottle suspiciously, and slowly set it back down on the table before retracting his hand as if he feared the bottle would bite him. It would probably be best if he cut back on the drinking.

And just what the hell was a Hobbit anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
